love is all there is...

I could just scream. A scarlet haze of anger floods my vision. I have been violated. So many times over the years, my family has violated my privacy.

Fuck them. This is MINE. I will not put my cold hands over my lips and hush my written screams. I never complain in spoken words. I never fight with them in voice. I keep it all inside, except for a few weak slips. Here is my release, the place my soul can breathe, my mind can wander, my heart is free.

In 5 days I will be home. Home, where 5 days a week I have privacy to write for an hour or two or three, to mull over my thoughts, to let the oblivion of written expression encompass me.

It will be exquisite, like seeing shimmering sunlight after years of suffocating darkness... like eating chocolate chips after months of only lettuce, eating them one by one, letting them dissolve on the tongue, coating the mouth in warmth and sweetness.

I haven't eaten in nearly a day. I want to write.

I always want to write, to let these burning words inside me pour out...the only voice I have is stifled, and I am going mad.

Everything I have written has been recount lately. I hate it. I hate talking about what I did.

I want to show you how I feel, make you feel me, make you hurt like I do, so I am not alone.

I hate this place that has me gagged and bound, like a prisoner.

5 days and I will be free.

5 days and I can be me, here.

5 days and I will have all the time I need

to spill my pain

thoughts

consciousness

here...

they will pour out of me, like anemic blood

from a wound that just won't heal.

The tragedy is that this imprisonment is of my own making. My own fault. A selfimposed torture. I let hope and trust get the best of me. The result is the lies that have rendered me absolutely mute .